Her snakeshead are all dead,
According to all that is said,
For on that night seven years ago,
Venom was diluted by song and cast away,
Seeping into the snowfields of mount Hasgar,
A region of rolling serpentine hills turned into a lifeless glacier,
Many Sharins ago...

One of her last remaining Snakeshead died from his wounds,
Restating his oath to serve Andulan before slipping beneath the black,
No song awaited him on the other side, only pools of venom,
On an island of silence.
That killed down to the last, knew his survival was heavy,
So he tore off a symbol of his responsibilty, from a brotherly neck.
Andulan was found passed out and alone, with a starry sky above to glimpse upon,
It didn't exist for him, all that mattered was that his beloved was still alive,
Battered and bruised, but living nonetheless.
He carried her off into the forest, taking her to a clearing beside a frog filled pond.
It croaked with slimy life, pouches of green littered the vernal pool, filled with capsules.
It was a melodious, low pitched song that eased him to sleep beside her,
He'd wake up with her lying over him.

All else would scream and try to escape,
But not you, my loyal snakeshead, not you,
We raised you like a member of an extended family,
Taught you reading, writing, arithemetic,
Gave you scales to wear and weapons to master,
Granted service to fill out your otherwise meaningless existence,
He interrupted her.
I live to serve you m'lady, no other vocation gives my pulse rhythm,
You gave us the power to exceed mortal limits, sharpened our minds beyond,
The scopes employed by lesser men cannot gaze upon what I have seen,
Thanks to you...
She sunk her fangs into his giving neck, he closed his eyes and wept,
At the majesty of it all.

So, what will it be?
My humble street performers,
Educated in the musical arts by none other than Sharin herself,
Venom or Silence? Make your choice carefully.
Everyone stopped listening to the sound of silence all around them,
She granted them permission to think this over, after only being given license to listen.
Rick turned his bowstring slack, lowered its direction to the ground, cocked his head towards John.
Kevin reached for his mallet, prepared to strike his rune blade, but Paul stopped him,
Lent a hand to ask him to wait patiently,
A single misspent move,
Could prove disastrous,
These snakeshead aren't human,
They move quicker than agility enables other men.